The Cops Aren't Even Looking
by ThatMasterOfChaos
Summary: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Perry/Harry: Harry and Perry are kidnapped on a stake-out and some interesting things take place while being held captive.


Perry was right when he said this business, in real life, was boring. I mean, oh, my dear LORD. I've been sitting here with the man for, what, 2 and a half hours, now?? And NOTHING! I don't even remember who we're WATCHING! I've even fallen asleep 4.6 times, only to be woken up immediately by Perry's surprisingly soft hand sharply patting my cheek.

"Ugh . . . " I rub the sleep outta my eyes that can barely keep themselves open and look around. Guess what? Nobody's there.

"Perry, what the hell are we still doing here? There's nobody out there!"

"Of course there isn't, idiot; he's inside. We're waiting for him to come OUTside. Make sense now, Einstein?" I scowl at him and he smiles sarcastically. He needs a fucking therapist. Seriously.

"Anyway, idiot, why've you been so quiet? Even though it might kill me if I ask this, is s . . . something bothering you?" He doesn't look like he's enjoying this conversation, quite frankly. Hmmph. I wonder why.

I sigh. "No. Lack of sleep, funnily enough." I glare at him. He's fucking slapped me across the face more times during this stake-out than I'd even fallen ASLEEP. Yeah, well, he says, he gets bored easily.

-- 1 hour later --

I sigh and look over at Perry. He's asleep, by the way. Do all you crazy fan-girls know what this means?! I could practically pull any prank I like right now, with only, like, a 30 chance of broken limbs! I'm hesitating to make an exact call, because, if you've seen the movie, I'll probably end up accidentally shooting somebody with information on account of my horrible math skills. It's true. I can't math. Or grammar, apparently.

I've been playing with Perry's phone. He has 911 as his #2 on his speed dial. Geek. Anyway, I'm getting a little worried, because what if our guy shows up, and I don't know it's him? I'll fuck up the entire case! Ugh. I have to wake PERRY up, now. I lean over towards him and poke his shoulder.

"Perry?" Nothing. I prod his shoulder, nearly shaking him.

"Perry!" Again. Nothing. Then, I think of the only thing that might awaken him, being a homosexual. I kissed him square on the mouth, thought to myself, "Why the FUCK would I do that?" and cowered back into my seat. This time, Perry opens his eyes.

I cringe, fearing the wrath of the sleepy and harrassed Perry. Surprisingly, he didn't say a word. I start to wonder if he even noticed me, er . . . kissing him.

"What'd I miss?" He asks me, normal as ever, and not even mean.

"Er . . . nothing. I woke you up because I was afraid I'd fuck it up." Yep. He smiles, probably thinking maybe I understand him now.

"Hah. Your lack of sleep and startling lack of talking is having a positive effect on my mood. You should consider it as a full-time habit. Now, come on. Let's go and see where this guy is - he was supposed to leave his house . . . an hour ago. Something might be up. You're sure nobody left?" I nod, and we get out of the car.

I follow Perry up the driveway and can't help but notice how unbe-freaking-lievably gay he looks in his turtle neck. I swear, he has, like, 23 of them. Seriously. I counted . . . but that's a different story. I still have the bruises on my shoulder(s.)

Anyway, we reach this guy's door, and, oh, oops; bad fucking narrating again. The guy we're looking for is a William Botts, a 30 year-old crack dealer who, quite frankly, doesn't seem to know it's illegal. He'll be rolling down the street in his stolen pickup truck, stopping random pedestrians and asking if they'd like a high for low.

Perry reaches for his brand-new Vektor that I stole for him. OH, fuck; don't tell him I stole it; I promised him I'd stop. Heh. He raps on the door, and calls, "William Botts?"

Nothing happens. He knocks louder, and threatens to open the door himself if nobody complies. Nobody did, so he acted on his threat. I was impressed. Perry steps into the house, gun first, and tells me to check the bedrooms. He wanders upstairs. I look around, finding my surroundings quite interesting, when someone who is DEFINITLEY not Perry emerges from the closet with a gun. I put my hands behind my head and open and close my mouth, trying to think of something to say. Uh-oh. Look what happens when Perry splits - I TOLD you all I'd fuck this up. Anyway, he drags me upstairs to find Perry, who, suprisingly, is genuinely pissed off. He glares at me as his pockets are searched and his Vektor taken. Hmm. I wonder if that Derringer's still near his balls . . .

"GET on the floor. NOW." Jeez. No need to yell. We do exactly what this man tells us. He drags us out into a van, directly in front of Perry's car, and, suddenly, I feel stupid. I feel very stupid. I hide my head ashamedly, and Perry thinks he should try being nice for a change, apparently. Oh, well. Trust me - it never lasts long.

"Hey. It's not your fault. I was the one who had us go inside. Not you. You did fine, Harry, don't beat yourself up." Hearing these words out of Perry's perfect lips made me look up. What? No "idiot" or "fuckhead?"

"Nope." Fuck. I've GOTTA stop saying things outloud. Anyway, we're riding in the back of the van belonging to Mr. Bott himself, Perry says. Positive ID, etc. Police stuff. This guy must not be a professional. He didn't cuff us or anything.

Finally, after about an hour of silent, confusing driving, Botts pulls in somewhere. I look around, but his windows are blacked out. He slides open the door, kicking Perry to wake him. Perry groans and looks around. Hah. How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine, Mr. Van Shrike? I picture myself saying that in my head and hope to GOD that wasn't outloud, or I'd be in for the beating of my life from my boss, and, funnily enough, I wouldn't quit the job, I wouldn't move out, I would continue saying and doing the same crap that Perry always gets me in trouble for. Some things never change.

Botts roughly drags us to this empty warehouse. He tells us that his girlfriend is missing, says he thought it was us, because why the fuck else would we be watching his house? Again. He has no idea what he does is wrong. I whimper, because I HATE it when nobody believes you and you're telling the truth. I bet Perry's used to it by now. I look over at him - he's thinking. He's ALWAYS thinking. How does he DO it?

Botts says if he doesn't get an answer in 3 hours, he'll kill us. Great.

I look over at Perry. He looks up and starts questioning me for some, any hope that I could've fucked it up big time for us. I tell him exactly what I did when he was asleep. I listened to the radio, I played with his phone, I played with the windows, I played with my pants, (different story) I kissed him -

"Wait, you did WHAT?"

"Sorry! I was bored, and I wanted to see who was in your speed dial."

"Why the fuck does it MATTER who's in my speed dial?"

"I don't know! But seriously, dude, why do you have 911 in there? Isn't it easy enough to press 3 lousy buttons, but, oh, no, this is Perry Van Shrike, His Highness, who prefers just one button."

He scowls at me like I'm something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe. I try not to look offended. Perry always hurts me AGAIN when I look offended. I don't know why it hurts me. It never used to. It hurt alot this time, though. I turn away and try and think of happy things. That never fucking works. Why does he always have to treat me so badly? Am I really that bad of an employee? Of a friend? I don't underSTAND.

Perry senses I'm feeling like shit because of him. He scoots over and says, "Hey." I look up and cringe. Perry was closer than I thought he would be, which isn't always the best place for him to be when you expect him to hurt you. I stand up and move towards the window. "What?" I ask nervously. He's been known to leave bruises.

HE looks offended, stands up, and follows me to the wall. I should probably tell you something: when I'm nervous, I tend to babble. ALOT.

"Uh . . . Perry? What are you doing? No! Stay over there! Don't hurt me . . . I didn't do anything! Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face? Or, are you trying to make me THINK I do so you can flick my nose?? That hurts! Why does . . . - " I'm too startled to even TALK now, as Perry's pushed me into the wall, and, lemme tell ya, he's not exactly . . . small. I think the noise I made was similar to "EEEP!"

"Harry, stop struggling. You'll only make this harder for yourself. Pun intended," Perry growled.

Uh, WHAT? Why?? That should've been scarier than all get out - but it wasn't. That's what scared me the most.

I felt Perry's hands run over my stomach, and a weird tingle went up my spine. No. OH, no. PLEASE, no. But, you've got to admit; seeing Perry standing over you - well, it kinda IS over you because he's pretty tall, but yeah, seeing Perry like that isn't the worst image, now, is it? Heh. Thought not.

Anyway, back to the good stuff. I feel his lips as he whispers in my ear. "I've wanted this for so long, Harry, I don't like waiting." I tremble with anticipation, thinking, oh, my GOD, Perry likes me, what is he gonna do? Wh . . . where's he going with his hand?? Ohh . . . that was NOT my hand. Ohmygod. This cannot be happening. As if to prove it IS happening, Perry leans in and kisses me. Wow. Ohmygod. Th . . . that thing . . . with his tongue. He needs to teach me that. I groan into the kiss, unwillingly giving in to my desire. He presses his hips into mine and I gasp. I'm hoping that's not what I think I feel . . . aw, who'm I kidding, this is Gay Perry, kissing me, and am I not deliciously attractive?

He does that amazing thing with his tongue again and I absolutely melt. This shouldn't be happening, and yet, it feels weird. Right, almost. Hunh. Perry releases me and looks at my bewildered face.

"Come on. Tell me you saw that coming."

"I . . . er . . ."

He grins. I'm finally speechless. All of a sudden, the door swings open and Botts waltzes in. Yes, waltzes. He thought he was some sort of baddass. I snickered at him until I saw what was in his right hand. A nice, shiny, long, steak knife. Exciting. He marches up to Perry with the knife in his hand. "I think that after tonight, you'll be ready to talk." Perry shows no sign of fear. He smiles at the criminal, only to be rewarded with a nice new cut on his cheek. Blood trickled down his face and he gasped. We weren't expecting this. We thought Botts would right out stab one of us, not TORTURE us. Oh, no.

I hate this. We have no fucking IDEA what this guy is talking about. Seriously, guys, this is an honest-to-God kidnapping of innocent people. I have to say, with my . . . shady? I can say that, right? Yeah, shady past, this was new. He had the knife up against Perry's neck, and, for once, I wasn't the one looking scared to death about punishment for something I never did. I thought I'd feel differently. I shift towards Perry, wondering if I should, like, kick the guy or something.

After that, we went home, ordered a pizza, and . . . Oh. Fuck.

Yeah, remember before when I was playing with Perry's phone? And how I thought it was so dorky and unneccessary for him to have 911 on his speed dial?? Turns out, while I was playing with his phone, I accidentally dialed 911, and hung up when I closed the phone. Yeah, how fucking sweet is that? They found out where we were, saw the van, and tracked Botts to the warehouse, where police stumbled in at the exact fucking right time.

Anyway, they arrested Botts for attempted murder and possession of controlled substances, yada yada yada, Perry and I went home, had a pizza, and fucked, yada yada yada. So, that's it; hope you enjoyed, come back again, blah. OH, you mean you wanted more? Well, okay, I guess I can go into detail . . . Oh.

Perry's home.


End file.
